


A Woman and A Pirate

by iwtv



Category: Black Sails
Genre: Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Sibling Love, The Past, relationship exploration
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-21
Updated: 2016-06-21
Packaged: 2018-07-16 11:44:46
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,723
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7266835
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/iwtv/pseuds/iwtv
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Post season 3. Eleanor and Flint have their first meeting since her return. There's no convincing each other to change their minds, but there's plenty to talk about.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Woman and A Pirate

**Author's Note:**

> Written for an anon on tumblr who wanted an exploration of these two after their last interactions on the show. This may have ended up being really maxanor, depending on how the ending is interpreted? I'm not sure, but mostly this is me wondering what their next meeting might be like.

Max broke the drag of silence between them with her eyes more than her words.

She gave Eleanor a nervous glance as they strode side by side towards the looming silhouette of the tent. Eleanor smiled reassuringly at her. In front of them walked some officer whose name escaped her, and behind them was Lieutenant Perkins, whom Captain Chamberlain had deemed fit to “accompany” her to the arranged meeting. Of course Eleanor knew that meant they were guarding her, wary of the infamous Captain Flint and his crew of murdering ruffians. She smiled to herself, aware of just how unafraid she was of Flint despite everything. Afraid of the pirates he commanded, yes. Afraid of whatever schemes he may create against her, yes. But afraid of meeting him face to face again? Not at all.

“You do realize this may be a trap,” said Max at last, her eyes fixed on the path in front of them. “To capture you and use you as leverage over Rogers.”

“I’m through with being held captive,” Eleanor replied smoothly, hiking her skirt over a puddle of water. “Besides, I know he won’t. He knows I’m not the key to winning his war. I’m not valuable enough to England to matter.”

She felt Max’s eyes searching her more intensely this time. The tent was just ahead of them. Both officers moved to hold their rifles across their chests. The morning was clear and Eleanor could make out three figures already standing by the tent.

“You have always been so sure of yourself where Captain Flint is concerned,” said Max. “And I will concede that for the most part you have been correct. You know him well. But you also know he is unpredictable.”

As they neared the tent Eleanor slowed to a stop and turned towards her. She rested a hand on Max’s shoulder and offered a wan smile.

“I know you’re worried. But I’ll be cautious, I promise. And besides…”

She patted the pistol burdened to the small belt around her waist, once heavy with a set of keys to all of Nassau. Max’s lips parted, eyes drifting to the hand on her shoulder and looking at it…longingly? Eleanor hastily dropped it, feeling more stirrings for the other woman than she cared to admit. She turned back towards the tent.

“Whenever you’re ready, ma’am,” said Lieutenant Perkins, who had joined his partner in front of her. Eleanor nodded and the three of them approached the tent. Eleanor glanced back once to see Max had not moved, chestnut eyes gazing into her own.

Eleanor turned her attention to the impending business at hand. There was a table in the middle of the tent, with one chair on each side. On the other side James Flint ducked his head under the tent, accompanied by two crew members Eleanor recognized, Billy Bones and a much-changed John Silver. Eleanor regarded that one with silent surprise, taking in the longer hair, beard, and the now-infamous iron boot, before she turned to Flint. His cropped hair was a mild shock to her; she’d never pegged him for carrying a look quite that rebellious. The rest of him was much the same, physically anyway. However, in the few seconds she had to study his face before they spoke, Eleanor saw a hint of some minute spark to his eyes as he looked at her.

\----------

Ms. Guthrie nodded politely at him as she stepped up to the chair.

“Captain Flint.”

James’s eyes watched as the two soldiers flanked her, their stony gazes darting from him to the two men beside him. James turned his head slightly to Silver and with the unspoken order, both he and Billy matched the soldiers’ movements so that the six of them mirrored one another.

Eleanor slowly pulled a pistol from her belt and laid it across the table, scooting it forward slightly.

“I thought we might unarm ourselves while we talk,” she said, expression carefully neutral.

Though he knew her well James couldn’t read her, had never been able to. She was one of the few persons in this world whose inner thoughts continuously eluded him, much to his chagrin. And yet a part of him was almost glad to see her again, to hear her voice despite all the betrayal and violence that had caused the chasm that now lay between them.

“Very well,” he said. He eyed the two guards as he slowly pulled out a pistol, as if daring them to move against him. He laid the item on the table, followed by another pistol, his cutlass and a short sword. Eleanor nodded, then turned to one of the guards.

“Give us some space, if you please.”

James’s lips twitched, bemused, at the distaste in her voice. Eleanor never liked to be crowded when doing business. No doubt having to put up with Roger’s men everywhere was quite the headache for her.

The two guards took a long step back. James once again turned towards Silver and both he and Billy did the same. This time James caught John’s eyes and he saw the reluctance there; John had argued against this meeting, reminding James of how conniving Eleanor Guthrie could be. Even now John was looking at him as though putting space between them was a terrible idea. The look was nearly enough to distract James completely. He closed off that new and raw part of himself that John had pried apart and returned his gaze to the blonde woman across from him.

“I was genuinely sorry to hear about Ms. Barlow,” said Eleanor. “She and I had our differences concerning you, but I understand what she meant to you.”

“Do you?” asked James, letting the challenge color his voice. But Eleanor didn’t flinch.

“Yes, I think I do. The events in Charlestown were the catalyst to the war we now find ourselves in. Her death and the death of her husband…” And Eleanor’s eyes darted up to catch his, “…caused you great pain.”

James blinked at her. He’d never revealed the extent of his relationship with the Hamiltons to her, but damn her, she seemed able to pull on the tiniest thread and stretch at least some truth out of it.

James nodded. It was on the tip of his tongue to say something similar about Charles Vane as bitterness washed over him but he refrained. Then a smile came to his lips.

“I would say I’m sorry Ben Hornigold kidnapped you, but it seems that ended up working in your favor. You come back here, days away from a death sentence, make friends with the new governor before he’s even made landfall, and re-assert yourself as Nassau’s authority. You’re as good at cheating death as I am.”

A genuine smile graced her lips for an instant.

“Perhaps,” she replied. “But whatever authority I have here is thread-bare, as I’m sure you can guess.”

James said nothing, waiting. Eleanor rested her arms across the table, leaning in slightly and locking eyes with him the way she used to when it was time to get down to business.

“When the two of us were allies, all of the Bahamas thought of us as their protective lords in different ways. You ruled the pirates and I ruled the commerce. But no one knew what we really wanted, which was to end piracy here. You never spoke those words to me, but that day you sat in my office and spoke of Odysseus and turning an oar into a shovel I knew what you meant.”

She was daring him to dispute it, daring him with her eyes and that look he knew so well. God, how he had missed this.

“I did want piracy to end,” he conceded, licking his lips and looking out towards the beach. “And up until Charlestown, I thought I had wanted Nassau to return to England’s way of doing things, to exist in the same state I had left Her, all because those I cared about had wanted it that way. But you weren’t there.”

James turned back to her, having mustered enough courage to let go of a sliver of his armor to show her what was underneath.

“You weren’t there when she was shot in cold blood for simply raising her voice. You weren’t there when I watched, chained up like a dog, as they threw food at her, when they cursed her name and mine, as though we’d been born in hell and not England. You were no doubt sailing back to England in a stinking hold at the time and then put in a jail cell. How did that feel?”

Eleanor’s jaw was tight, her gaze too steady as James saw the subtle ways she fought to hold herself like a man before him.

“Shitty,” she replied. “It felt shitty because it was shitty. You think I love England? That because I was given a second chance at life that I wish to go marching into London, waving the fucking British flag above my head? You’re wrong. England has its faults, like any country. But were you and I not both looking for a way not to survive, but to thrive here not so long ago?”

Eleanor rose up from chair, leaning towards him and letting urgency coat her tone, green eyes imploring his. James felt Billy and John tense behind him though no one had actually moved. For a split second he was reminded of Miranda rising out of her chair for the last time, reminded of Thomas rising out of his chair to kiss him for the first time.

And James felt the pull towards her, the urge to let her convince him. But it was never one-sided. The truth was they did it to each other. It was why they had worked so well together.

“What I do,” he started slowly, “What I’ve done, has been for what I’ve lost. I think you’ve always known this, on some level. But I have never been able to figure out why you’ve done what you’ve done, Eleanor. I thought it was for the same reasons. That day I came to you about the missing captain’s page and found you standing over Max while she begged you. That day I thought I had you figured out. I saw the suffering in your eyes and how you loathed what it was you were doing to her…yet you still did it.”

\---------

Eleanor’s chest tightened with each word Flint spoke. She should have known he would match her, challenge for challenge, yet she hadn’t expected the past to arise in the conversation, not like this. She had nearly forgotten that anyone else had been in the room that day; the only thing she truly remembered was Max’s face and the tears on her cheeks as she had pleaded for Eleanor to forget it all, to choose her love over Nassau. It had nearly ruined her, yet Flint was right. She had kept her decision anyway. Oh, did he realize just how much he knew her?

“You and I have many things in common,” she said at last. “It’s one of the reasons I called this meeting. Can we…can we take a walk?”

Everybody around them seemed to pause. Eleanor stepped away from the chair and her pistol on the table. She offered Flint a wry smile.

“I promise I haven’t placed assassins in the bushes, if that makes you feel better.”

There was a tiny smile hiding under Flint’s beard as he rose. Just then John Silver stepped up behind him and clamped a hand over his shoulder. The look he gave her was cold in a way Eleanor couldn’t recall him ever possessing before. Cold...and possessive? As was the hand he laid on his captain, she thought.

How much had changed in so little time.

“I’d like to remind you,” said John, turning his gaze to Flint, “That we have a schedule to keep.”

She watched as Flint twisted to face him.

“It’s all right. We won’t be too long.”

Eleanor watched with mild bafflement. If she didn’t know any better she would have guessed that Flint was trying reassure Silver of his personal safety.

They stepped out of the tent after Eleanor had to convince Lieutenant Perkins of the same, leaving all of them behind so that just the two of them walked leisurely out into the wide field to the north, leaving them both in full view of their respective guards but out of earshot.

It was still morning but already Eleanor could feel the sweat beading on her neck. Nassau Town would be in full swing by now, the hustle and bustle of the day well underway. Here though, it was quiet and calm. If she tried hard enough she could imagine the two of them were just two friends out for a stroll. If she tried.

“You can’t seriously think you’ll change my mind,” Flint broke through the silence, glancing over at her as they walked.

She shrugged. “No more than you will change my mind. We still both want what’s best for Nassau. I do believe that. Tell me that hasn’t changed.”

\-----------

Eleanor came to a halt and James stood close beside her, her words taking up the space between them. He thought of the many responses he could give her and finally settled on one.

“You want what’s best for you. You always have,” he said. “True, you’ve sacrificed much for this place. So have I. But for all our similarities there is one glaring difference.”

James hesitated, licking his lips and tasting salt. The rising heat of the day seemed to push down over everything, stagnating the weeds and the trees and the very air, until he looked into her eyes again and remembered the wide gulf that lay between them.

“And what difference is that?” she asked when he wasn’t forthcoming.

He had meant to spill it all out, plain and simple, but he was mildly shocked to find some intrinsic part of him still thought of Eleanor as the other side to his coin.

“When I was growing up I had a younger sister,” he began instead. “She had reddish chestnut hair and matching eyes. She looked nothing like you but in spirit she was much the same. She died from typhoid fever when she was 16 or 17. That was how old you were when I first met you. I didn’t have an inkling then, but you would come to remind me so much of her. Believe it or not, but I came to think of you as a sibling, a sister.”

His eyes drifted over the vast expanse of tall brownish weeds they stood in. A light breeze caused them to ripple like ocean waves. Eleanor let out a small laugh.

“I appreciate your sentiment, captain, but I think it’s a bit late for nostalgic remembrances—“

“The night before I went after the Urca gold,” he cut her off suddenly. “You found me half drunk, having doubts. Why did you stay and say those things to me?”

He hadn’t meant to speak so bluntly, hadn’t really meant to say it at all.

Eleanor’s laugh faded into something somber, eyes downcast before raising them to him.

“Because it was true. I did believe in you. I knew whatever passions drove you to do what you do, to make you into Captain Flint, that you wouldn’t settle for losing or quitting. I still do believe in you, despite all that’s happend since.”

James eyed her warily but he couldn’t find any lie to her words.

“You said there was one glaring difference between us,” Eleanor gently prodded. “What is it?”

James smiled bitterly. “You let Max go. That I saw. I thought perhaps I would even have done the same at the time, if I were in your shoes. But then there was Charles.”

James ignored the way she flashed a warning glare at him, the way her mouth tightened up as she seemed to stare past him, face stony.

“You can blame his death on Woodes Rogers if you want, but we both know you allowed it to happen. I didn’t have to be there for that,” said James. He heard his own voice turn icy. He had never spoken much about Vane’s death, not to Rackham or Bonny or even Silver. He’d been brushing it aside, focusing on battles and strategies. But now, face to face with Eleanor, he felt obligated to let out some of his anger.

“He loved you,” he said at last. “He may have killed your father, but he still loved you. Even I could see it. This entire island knew it. But when you let him go, you didn’t do it for Nassau’s greater good. His hanging wasn’t necessary for Nassau. You let your rage make the decision for you.”

“My rage?” Eleanor blinked at him, her cheeks turning flush. “My rage?” she repeated, ire rising hot and fast. “Do you hear yourself? Do you? Because I’m fucking certain that your rage has caused more death and destruction than all my rage ever could.”

James let her fume at him, daggers in her eyes.

“What the fuck was I suppose to do?” she continued, yelling. “He murdered my father, then had the gall to tell me what a piece of shit he was. He would have done worse to keep Nassau the way he wanted it. What the fuck was I supposed to do?!”

“If you’re implying he would have hurt you for Nassau, you know that’s bullshit,” said James. He felt his eyes twitch. He looked away from her, tried to push down his feelings but failed.

“You were suppose to love him, damn you! That is what you should have done!”

He was simmering to almost a boil before he even knew it. There were deeply buried things rising in him now that he hadn’t intended to free, but he let them free anyway. It was just the two of them. Eleanor spat back something to him but again he cut her off.

“I would have given anything, anything to be with the ones I loved, whose deaths started all of this,” he said, hearing himself from far away. He held her gaze, inches away from her.

“Love isn’t easy. I know Vane was a difficult man. I don’t pretend to know anything about the two of you. But I know about me. Love is hard. It’s fucking hard as hell to hold on to and it fucking hurts. But to give up on it, to let it slip away—”

\-----------

“Is that what you think I did?” she cut him off, unable to hold her tongue any longer. “I let Charles slip away? You bastard! I freed her for you!”

Her fists pounded against his chest with all her might. James took it. She saw his face wince at the mention of Abigail Ashe.

“That’s right,” she spat, pushing away from. “I took her from him and that night it was Charles who made it clear to me that we were through. I stole from him, and he murdered my father. Amazing how love works, isn’t it?”

Her eyes closed. The stung and felt heavy.

“The things I’ve done for you—“ she whispered.

So selfish. Flint was so fucking selfish, scarcely acknowledging what she’d done for him over the years.

But then again, she was selfish, too.

She startled when she felt the press of lips to her forehead. Her arms came up defensively but halted. Flint wasn’t quite holding her though both his hands held her arms, and that night came rushing back to her…the tavern, Flint’s glassy eyes looking down at her, so fucking sad…

“I’m sorry,” he said to her now, pulling back. He was looking at her with that same expression now, full of sorrow. Somewhere deep down she thought it was a sorrow whose depths she had never known.

She felt her anger draining away despite trying desperately to hold on to it. She wiped at her face and sighed.

“I’m sorry too.”

Across the way her guards and Flint’s men still stood tersely, watching them. No doubt they were getting impatient.

“It was good for a while though, wasn’t it?” she asked, turning to him again.

“Yes, it was.”

“We accomplished so much.”

“A woman and a pirate,” he mused, and she could hear the smile in his voice.

“A woman and a pirate,” she echoed. Around them the breeze blew through the field again. A soft hiss filled the air.

“You know,” she said, “I really have no fucking idea why I called this meeting.”

She’d meant it as a joke, but Flint seemed to still.

“And I don’t know why I decided to accept,” he said after a long silence.

Eleanor offered him her hand. Flint looked at it, then slowly raised his and shook it. His grip was tight. Eleanor matched it and they stayed like that for a beat too long.

“God knows when we’ll see each other again,” she said.

Flint’s eyes went skyward as though there would be an answer there.

“Maybe never. But something tells me not to believe that.”

She gave him another wry smile.

“As long as Nassau is disputed territory, there’s plenty to fight for.”

 

They walked back to the tent in silence, splitting off from one another as they reached it. James thought he could feel the smallest shift to the world around him as they separated, she to her British guards and he to his crew. The world had forced them into their proper placeholders once more. When they stood apart she nodded at him.

“Good-bye, captain. Thank you for meeting me.”

He nodded back.

“Ms. Guthrie. Always a pleasure.”

Their gazes lingered, longer than they should have but neither of them seemed to care, until the sounds of gulls and of people in town and a far-away barking dog pulled them back to themselves. Eleanor collected her pistol and turned to leave. James gathered his pistols and swords and stared after her. A smile crept into his face as he made out Max’s figure awaiting her on the road.

“A woman and a pirate,” he whispered to himself.

***


End file.
